Bittersweet
by Rustic Diamond
Summary: There are many things that can be replaced if lost... What happens when you lose the things you hold most dear? Something irreplaceable? Something like... your memory? EC On Hiatus...
1. Prologue 1

_A/N: Hi! This is my first POTO fic, so please be kind! I've only watched the movie (too poor to go see the musical, and all the copies of Leroux's novel in the surrounding libraries have either been stolen, misplaced by the library, or lost... --"... So this is based on the 2004 movie (and what I've gathered from reading other fanfics and stuff from forums...). This takes place after DJT (but please cut the graveyard scene at the very end...) Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me, except for the plot line... but with the amount of fics that are out there, my fic may bear similarities to other fics at some points in time... if that happens, I DO apologize, and I swear that I made this up myself..._

_Without further ado, I bring you..._

**Bittersweet**

It has only been 24 hours since the last notes of _Don Juan Triumphant_ were sung. Twenty-four torturous hours. I don't know how I survived those last moments. I didn't know what to think, how to act, what my response should have been. At that one crucial moment, I did what my jumbled mind had been instructed to do.

What a mistake that turned out to be.

Underneath it all, I knew what was going to happen once I took off his mask. I was told over and over again that _his_ reign must end. That his presence in my life was dangerous to me. I was frightened, my heart a mix of emotions. When Raoul first professed his love for me, it seemed to be that anchor to reality, to peace, that I had needed. I readily accepted his love. Now I'm beginning to regret that decision. Was that a decision that was made out of fear? Out of need for security? Or was that based on real love? I no longer know why I turned to Raoul. Did I really return that love for him? Do I love him, or am I truly _in_ love with him? I no longer know.

I am no longer clear about what happened that day. Why I did what I did. All I know is that it was because of me, and me alone, that the _Opera Populaire_ lies in ruins. That many are left without a home, much less a job. That many of the audience that night were injuried. I know not if any were seriously injured or even killed. I don't want to know. I don't want to know what kind of horrors befell them.

Is this how I'm supposed to feel? Wasn't I supposed to feel relieved that _he_ no longer has an influence in my life? Am I not supposed to be glad to be free? I wanted to be free, right? To make my own decisions? But which of the decisions that I have made in the past days, months and even years have been mine and mine alone? Up to this moment, which of the decisions have been my own? Even the decision to accept Raoul's love? To sing _Don Juan Triumphant_? To take of that mask?

To condemn _him_ to his grave?

Am I to blame? Is it like what Raoul tells me and that I have no fault in this? Or is it like what my heart tells me, that all of this is my fault?

That people died because of me?

That people are injured because of me?

That people are without a home, without jobs, because of me?

That the one man who had been a constant in my life is condemned because of me?

I no longer know…

What is truly wrong or right? I don't know… Don't ask me questions, please… Leave me alone… Leave me in peace…

* * *

_This and the next chapter will be a look into both of their minds... following which there will be actual dialogue... please review! much thanks!_


	2. Prologue 2

_A/N: Hello again! Thank you for reading my fic so far! This is the second part - I PROMISE that the action will start in the next chapter... :) And I'm so happy! I already have one review! Thank you, ErikMySweet! It's deeply appreciated, that's for sure... Standard disclaimers apply - they're in the first chapter And here I present..._

**Consequences**

They say that everyone has a soul-mate. When you find that one person, they will complete you. That person is out there somewhere, and when you find them, your heart will know. Your soul will rejoice. Your life will be fulfilled. What they did not say was that your soul-mate would be the one that would hurt you the most. That they would have someone else to turn to. That you're not the only one for them.

How I wish I knew that before.

Time was inconsequential after they were gone. All I could think of was that she left. She left me here to die, though I don't blame her. That first kiss woke the human part of me that was slowly succumbing to madness. I knew she had done it to save that _fop_ boy of hers. Then she went for the second kiss. Oh, how I treasured that first kiss, but the second one was torturous. Did she believe that I needed any more convincing? Any more pity? I knew she had chosen _him_. That she would never be mine. But why did she have to twist the knife? And to come back, heightening my hopes, only to have them crash even harder. Why did she not just _leave_ when I told her to? Why?

Christine, why? _Why?_

I wish I could hate her. Hate her for all the pain she caused me when she tore my heart out and trampled it. I can't, though. I can _never_ hate her. She is my life, my light, my muse… my song… I cannot hate the only speck of light in my darkness. I cannot hate my soul-mate. I cannot even place blame on her, knowing the blame is mine and mine alone. I could not fight fate. Fate decided that she was not to be mine, no matter how my soul rejoiced when she was near. No matter how much I yearned to be with her. Fate decided that Christine was not to be mine. When she took off my physical mask that one cursed moment, she also removed my other mask from me as well. She removed herself.

Who am I to fight fate? Fate dealt me these cards long ago, and no matter how much I challenge her, I will always lose. Of all people, I will be the first to lose to fate. After all, I lost before I even began to play the game of life. I don't want to play the game anymore… She took with her everything that sustained me. I no longer had the illumination that I had come to depend on.

I can never be alive again. I may exist, but I can never be alive.

My masks are gone.

I am bare to all of humanity.

My sins have come back to haunt me.

The consequence of sin is death.

I have to suffer my consequences.


	3. And so it begins

_A/N – I just spent 6 hours last night when I should be studying for my Chem exam writing down pure plotline for this fic… Yes, it is officially finals season… and my first one is in two days… sigh_

**And So It Begins...**

The second night had given way to morning. This was the day that Raoul was going to bring Christine back to his parents' home where he would reintroduce her as his fiancé. However, those plans would have to be put aside.

"Christine! Christine! Wake up!" Meg's voice traveled down the hallway into Raoul's study. It was not early in the morning; dawn had broken hours ago, and the time for breakfast had come and gone. It was late indeed.

"_Christine Daae! WAKE UP IMMEDIATELY!_" Mme. Giry's thundering voice followed Meg's. Concerned, Raoul set off for Christine's room and was greeted by two ladies shaking the poor soprano. Raoul knocked on the door, and Mme. Giry and Meg turned to him, the former with a look of concern on her face, and the latter with the same concern, but with a blush.

"Good… morning, Monsieur le Vicomte" Mme. Giry, always minding her etiquette, was lost as to which time of day she should refer to in her greeting. She curtsied, and a dazed Meg followed her mother's actions.

"Good afternoon, Mme. Giry, Mlle. Giry." Raoul nodded his head in acknowledgement. He turned to Christine, concerned at her state of sleep. "Has she been sleeping all this time, Mme.?" He asked. This was certainly uncommon, for one to sleep for two straight days.

She had collapsed in his arms once they were out of the _Opera Populaire_. He had fetched the doctor, which, after examining her, said that there was no physical illness with Christine. He had first explained it as exhaustion. Raoul was, and still is, deeply concerned for his fiancée. It was understandable – she had gone through a lot these past few months, and he was afraid that she was going to be tainted by that monster… He fought so hard to free her, and he would die before he would let her succumb to illness because of what happened.

"This is of monumental concern, Mme. Giry. I'll have the doctor fetched immediately." With that, he set off to find a servant to send word to Dr. Audet, the family physician.

It didn't take long for Dr. Audet to arrive at the de Chagny estate, as the family was always gracious to him. He was quickly ushered upstairs into Christine's room. Raoul proceeded to tell him the details about Christine's behaviour, which weren't very many. All they knew was that Christine has been sleeping since that night at the Opera.

Audet was concerned. It was not normal for anyone without physical injuries to just fall asleep and _stay_ asleep for so long. He had questions, and he needed answers. "How has her sleeping patterns been? Has she been moving?"

"Oui, monsieur. She has moved, though not much, when she is asleep. It is as if she were sleeping normally," Mme. Giry supplied.

"No dreams? No nightmares?" Audet asked Mme. Giry, realizing that she was the one with the answers he needed.

"Non, monsieur. She has not had any nightmares. Her sleep has been peaceful. Long, but peaceful." Mme Giry was unsure of why the doctor asked these questions, but she would answer them to the best of her ability. Christine was like a daughter to her, and she would do all she can to make her well.

"Well, I cannot find any problems with her," Audet diagnosed. Raoul moved to talk, but Audet held up a hand to stop the vicomte. "There is nothing of major concern right now. She has no severe injuries, no physical injuries at all, and no nightmares. There is no evidence of any internal injuries. Mlle. Daae seems to only be sleeping. Perhaps the lady is sleeping to cure herself of the exhaustion she has been through." Audet did not want to voice his concern. A good doctor should always be aware of what is happening, but avoid any unnecessary grief to the family. He had no solid evidence that this long sleep was damaging to Mlle. Daae, and so he chose not to voice his concern.

"Is there anything we can do for her right now?" Raoul asked, wanting to provide some sort of comfort to Christine while she was in this state.

"Make sure you keep her at a comfortable temperature, and keep her clean. Prepare lots of fluids as she will be in need of hydration when she wakes. If she does not wake tomorrow, then that is of concern," Audet instructed. He liked the young cheerful vicomte, and wanted to help as much as possible.

"We will call you when she wakes, Dr. Audet. Thank you," Raoul answered. He didn't want to imagine what could happen if Christine did not wake up before tomorrow morning. He motioned to the manservant that was standing in the corner. "Étienne? Will you please show Dr. Audet to the door? Oh, and also the good doctor's fees." Audet followed Étienne out of the room. "Merci, M. le Vicomte" Audet bowed, and Raoul nodded his head. "No, thank _you_, Dr. Audet."

As the doctor left, Raoul turned to Mme. Giry and Meg. "Mme. Giry, Meg, I wish to ask a favour." Mme. Giry, not totally shocked, but still surprised, asked him to go on with his request.

"Mme. Giry, would it be possible for you to stay until Christine fully recovers? Both you and Meg will be taken care of and would not have to worry about expenses or anything. I know both of you are without employment as of right now, and I know that seeking employment is a priority. I will have some of my servants look for places of employment on your behalf." Raoul was desperate. He trusted Christine with Mme. Giry and Meg. The two of them took care of Christine all those years at the Opera.

Mme. Giry bowed to Raoul. "We would be most thankful, M. le Vicomte. Christine is like a daughter to me and I thank you for giving me the chance to take care of her at her time of need." Meg said nothing, but bowed alongside her mother.

"Then it is settled! You shall keep the rooms that you are in right now. I thank you, Mme., Mlle. I wish I could stay here with Christine, but there is urgent business that need taken care of." Raoul went back to his study, though still worrying, but definitely worrying less than earlier.

* * *

The rest of the day was quite uneventful. The Giry's belongings were touched by the fire, yes, but Mme. Giry had managed to take her most precious belongings with her when they fled the Opera house, and were already sitting in a neat little pile in their rooms in the de Chagny estate. The day was spent sorting those out and putting them into some semblance of organization and checking up on Christine. Meg was unusually silent, worried for her friend and almost-sister. The two had grown up together, and to have Christine like this was not doing well for Meg's nerves, especially after what they had all been through. 

While organizing their things, Mme. Giry came across a hastily bundled package. Not knowing what it was, she opened it, and nearly dropped it in surprise. The angry face of the pristine white half-mask stared back at her, as if mocking her. Memories flooded Brigitte Giry's mind. Memories of when she had saved Erik from the gypsies. Of when he would haunt the opera. She cried for the little boy whose innocence was robbed by the world. She cried for that little boy who had turned into a man, and had felt only the worst of all emotions in the world. She cried, knowing that she had betrayed a person who had taken care of both herself and Meg. She was concerned for Christine, which was why she had led Raoul down to the cellars in the first place. Little did she know things were going to turn out this way. She dared not ask the Vicomte what had happened to Erik, and Christine was already dead weight in his arms when Mme. Giry found them outside the opera house. She worried for Christine, not knowing when her surrogate daughter would wake up. Also, she worried for Erik, as she did not know what had happened to him. Meg's silence after going down to the depths was also unnerving. For the first time in a long time, Brigitte Giry felt old.

It was not until deep into the night when the figure shrouded in sheets and blankets began to toss and turn. Deep in slumber, the rest of the household was unaware of what was happening. The figure continued to fidget within the cocoon of sheets. Arms escaped, and began to fling about. Hair was whipped around as the head was shaken from left to right and back left. Sweat broke across the forehead, and eyes moved behind the eyelids, rapidly, in all directions. Teeth were clenched together, then the mouth was opened in a silent scream. The face was twisted in agony. The legs were thrashing, still encased in the sheets. Soft moans and cries emanated from the mouth.

"No… no… no…"

Suddenly, the figure shot up with eyes wide. A terrified scream cut through the night.

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_"


	4. Unstoppable

_A/N: Aloha again! Thank you to all who reviewed… I am in the midst of exams, as mentioned last chapter, and hopefully I can still update during this month... Let's hope! Exams are a pain… and I would much rather be watching POTO again instead of studying for exams… but life isn't always so fair… I just got slaughtered this morning by one… sigh_

_Reviews are deeply appreciated, and if there are any bits of constructive criticism, I would be glad to receive them… I have no beta, so this is purely my own cut… _

_The standard disclaimer applies… Anything recognizable does not belong to me… sadly…_

_Now on with the show…_

**Bittersweet – Chapter 4**

_She was trapped. But where? Where was she? She looked around, hoping to find something that would allude to her location. She was lost, cold, and terrified. Suddenly, she saw a speck of light far away, over to the left. She walked toward it, slowly at first, then breaking out into a run. The light drew closer and closer, and then it overwhelmed her. She stopped, wanting to see what was around her, only to cringe at the sight before her. It was Erik's lair, except it wasn't. Everything was destroyed, from the precious organ to the miniature set of the stage. The sheets of music that littered the lair were everywhere, wet, torn, and completely destroyed. She felt a pain in her heart, knowing that music was destroyed. If it wasn't splintered, it was bent, torn, or shredded. The busts around the lair were shattered, the drawings torn and dirtied, and the sheets on the bed torn. She remembered the feel of those linens against herself, so soft, so comfortable. She wanted to cry at the sight. It was such a beautiful lair. Creepy, yes, but it had its own sense of mystery and beauty to it. Now, this place was not a place of beauty – it was a place of destruction. _

_She was so engrossed in surveying the damage to the lair that she did not notice the figure beside the broken mirrors. That figure, crouched over in pain, whimpered, drawing her attention to it. She recognized him at once, and was bombarded with guilt as she knew that it was her that brought such pain onto him. She moved toward him, but stopped when he rose to his feet. It was then she saw his face. The distortion of his face on his right side no longer frightened her. It was the pain and agony that was etched onto his perfect side that sent daggers into her heart. No matter what had happened these past few months, she still cared for him. He was her tutor, the one who had brought her voice to the quality it was today. He was the one giving her the chances, though not exactly how she wanted him to. He walked toward her, and she braced herself for a confrontation. However, he seemed to look right through her at something behind her. She turned back around, following his gaze to the Punjab lasso that still hung from the grate that was the entrance to his kingdom. He started for the water, but stopped himself, looking back at the alcove with the mannequin in it. He walked over, his steps heavy and slow. She followed him in silence, not knowing what he was going to do. He collapsed in front of the mannequin, sobbing once again. Whispers came out of his mouth, and even her keen ears did not pick out whatever he was saying. She leaned closer to him, and was rewarded with conherent words._

"_I'm sorry, my love… I'm sorry… Forgive me, my angel. I beg your forgiveness, knowing it would be impossible… I wish you happiness, my love, and though my selfish heart wants you to remember me, I know it would be best if you forgot me. Goodbye, my angel. I am no Angel of Music, but I will always take care of you, even when I am burning in hell… Goodbye." _

_With these words, he rose, catching her off-guard. She was bracing herself for a collision, as she would not be able to move away in time to prevent one, and a collision and confrontation were inevitable. However, to her surprise, he passed right through her. Shocked, she looked down at her hands. They looked solid enough, but things can be deceiving. While she was lost in her own thoughts, he had made his way towards the grate. He took off the Punjab lasso and took it with him towards the shore. He rummaged around and found a semi-broken wooden crate, quite a large one, but not too large. He found two candelabra and placed them next to the crate. He walked right along the shore, and threw the Punjab lasso towards the grate, successfully winding it quite a ways higher than it originally was. He tied it to one of the remaining candelabras that were in the water. _

_She stayed still while he went on doing this. She couldn't for the life of her understand why he did that, until he threw the lasso against the grate. Then it all became clear._

_He was trying to kill himself._

"_No! No! You can't do this, no!" She screamed, but he couldn't hear her. She ran towards the wooden crate, throwing herself over it in an attempt to make him confront her before he got to the crate. She forgot, however that she couldn't be seen or heard. The crate passed through her when he picked it up and walked toward the grate. She could not do anything except follow him out, grabbing at him at every given chance, hoping that if she touched him enough, he would sense her and listen to her. He put the candelabra into the wooden crate, and climbed on top of it. Grabbing hold of the lasso, which was a little to the left of himself, he threaded his head through. _

_She grabbed at his feet, hoping to make contact. She tried to climb on top of the crate and pull his head away from the noose, but her feet passed right through. She cried out to him, but he could not hear her. He looked towards the mannequin, and said his final words._

"_Christine, I love you."_

_With that, he kicked off, and the rope went slack against his weight. She screamed, cried, and felt completely useless. _

"_No… No… NO!..."_

_Suddenly, an invisible force threw her back towards the shore, robbing her both of movement. She screamed in agony as her heart began to break and bleed itself dry. _

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

* * *

The bloodcurdling scream woke just about everybody in the house. Mme. Giry, Meg, and Raoul were instantly up and were running towards Christine's room. Étienne and Marie, the housekeeper, were also up and running towards the source of the noise. Mme. Giry, being closest to Christine, arrived first. She flung the door open to find her surrogate daughter up in bed, her head in her hands, and sobbing incessantly. She rushed over, putting a hand on Christine's shoulder. Christine's tear-streaked face looked back up at her, her mouth trembling and her eyes reflecting deep sadness and pain. Then she threw her arms around Mme. Giry, sobbing into her chest. "Madame, its terrible! Terrible! I couldn't stop him, madame. I couldn't stop him!" 

Mme. Giry thought Christine was talking about the incident that fateful night. She held Christine close. "Shush, _ma petite fille_, nobody can harm you here. Shush, shush…" Christine would not stop shaking her head, though. "What's wrong, my child? You don't believe me?"

"No, madame, it's not that… I couldn't stop him! Oh!" Again, Christine collapsed into sobs. Mme. Giry was at a loss at what to do, and she hated that. She has always known what to do to comfort, to help. Now, there was absolutely nothing she could do. Until Christine gets over her fear, there was nothing anybody can do to help her.

'_Curse you, Erik_,' Mme. Giry thought. '_Curse you for causing Christine pain…_'

* * *

_Please please review! If you already have, much thanks!_


	5. Unexplained

_A/N: Hello again… It's been hard writing these few chapters… I know it's important to get everything going, but it seems so… drab… and lifeless… and uninteresting… not to mention I've been catching mistakes all over the place (no beta as of yet)… but please bear with me… the fun will begin soon… Sorry for the late update… problems came up within the family (hospitals are never fun)… and so I was stuck without a computer to use for quite some time… and by the time I got home, I was too tired to use the computer… So this is a rather short chapter… just wanted to get it out…_

_Opherz – Audet's there for you_

_Disclaimer: As usual… nothing that is recognizable is mine… _

**Bittersweet – Chapter 5**

It wasn't long before Étienne returned with a flustered-looking Dr. Audet, for he was woken up quite abruptly. By that point in time, Raoul and Meg had joined Mme. Giry in Christine's room, all looking anxious and worried. Christine was latched onto Mme. Giry's arm, no longer crying, but had a look of horror on her face. Audet stood just inside the doorway, his eyes meeting Mme. Giry's, waiting for the consent that he felt was needed before he approached Christine's bed. Mme. Giry looked to Christine, who gave her a small, nearly indistinguishable nod. Mme. Giry then turned to Audet, nodding her own head as a sign of approval and permission. Audet promptly requested that everybody leave the room save Mme. Giry, much to the distress of one Raoul de Chagny. As soon as they left, he took out his stethoscope and assorted other things from his bag. The whole time, he was silent, yet had a smile on his face. He was relieved that the girl had woken up; he was starting to worry. He arranged his stethoscope on his ears, and looked to Christine for consent before listening to her breathing and her pulse.

Christine liked this man. He didn't seem to look down on her just because she was young. She did not know if he knew of the incident, but if he did, it did not affect how he was examining her. He gave off this sense of comfort, and familiarity. He reminded her of…

Mme. Giry did not know why Christine resumed her crying, but she did. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she was shaking with sobs. Audet had immediately stopped his examination for fear that it was his presence that was affecting her, and that his examination was disturbing to her somehow. He would never know that it was because of his kindness and care for this young woman that would cause her this distress.

The two let Christine cry for the little while that she did, but soon Christine's tears stopped, and the examination resumed. Audet found little wrong physically with Christine, save dehydration and slight malnutrition, both due to the fact that she had not been awake and eating for the past few days. However, Audet suspected that there were things… mental things… that bothered the young woman.

"Mlle. Daae? Have you been dreaming at all during your time asleep?" Audet inquired. Christine balked at the question. How did he know? She had to answer, no matter how much she did not want to.

"Oui, monsieur… I had been dreaming…" Christine's voice was raspy, a result of the crying she had done. It sounded nothing like the voice that graced the stages only a few days ago. Before she could continue, Audet interrupted her.

"Were any of them nightmares, mademoiselle?" Audet knew the answer to this question before he asked it, taking into account the distressed look on her face, the tear tracks down her cheeks, and the way she clung to Mme. Giry's arm. This was not the look of one who had just woken up from a peaceful slumber.

Mme. Giry also wanted to know. She has known and taken care of Christine since she was a little girl, and not even her father's death affected her this way. She was worried for her, as a mother would her child.

Christine didn't want to answer the question. She wanted to believe that it was a nightmare and a nightmare only, but deep down inside, she was afraid that what she saw was not a nightmare but visions of what had happened. She didn't want to hear a decision on what it was come out of her lips. If she said that she had a nightmare, it would haunt her for life if they were really visions of what happened. If she said that it was not a nightmare, it was as good as admitting that the things were what had come to pass. She couldn't make a decision as to what she would respond with. Finally, she made a decision.

"Oui…" she whispered. She would rather hope this was a nightmare… she would rather believe that this was a nightmare…

Audet didn't ask Christine to elaborate, sensing the girl's reluctance. He produced a small bottle of laudanum from his bag and handed it to Mme. Giry. "Give a few drops of this to her, if the nightmares are too much to bear." Mme. Giry took it and put it on the bedside table, making sure she knew where it was. Audet then left the room, leaving the two women by themselves.

Mme. Giry wanted to know what Christine's nightmare was, considering it scared the young girl so much. However, she never had a chance to ask her before Raoul burst into the room, worried for his fiancée.

"Christine? Is everything alright?" When Christine didn't give him an answer, he turned to Mme. Giry. "Mme. Giry? Is Christine alright? What did the doctor say?" Raoul had to find out from either of these two women, for Audet had left without telling him anything, respecting Christine's privacy. Mme. Giry was about to answer when she felt a squeeze on her arm. She turned around to find Christine's pleading face. She then understood that Christine did not want Raoul knowing anything. Why, she did not know, and she intended to find out. But in the meantime, she would help the girl.

"It is nothing to worry about, monsieur. Just exhaustion."

Raoul sighed in relief. Christine was alright. If she was not, then he would not have known what to do. But he blamed the monster for her weakness. He blamed that thing for everything that happened to Christine. As he left Christine's room to return to his own, he swore to himself to protect Christine with his life. Even if it meant his own.

* * *

­­­**_Please Review!_**


	6. Musings interrupted

_Lots of stuff happened at home… for the last 4 months, I've been basically kept from doing anything well…social… and therefore I have been deprived of fanfiction –both writing it and reading it regularly – for the past few months. For those who are following this story – I apologize. Profusely. And hope that you have not lost interest! Now that I'm back in school, I finally have a chance to continue the story! I know this is a short chapter… but I needed to update… to get things back in motion… please bear with me!_

_Bergerac – Thank you v. much for the enthusiasm!_

_And so I bring you…_

**Bittersweet – Chapter 6**

It had been six days since Christine woke up from her sleep. Six unbearable days and six restless nights. Her days were filled with useless things; she stayed in bed most of the time, for Raoul had forbid her from leaving it. She wanted to go out and be in the gardens, absorbing the life that was outside. Instead, she was forced in this cold, sterile room. Not that the room itself was the cause of this feeling. It was decorated with warm, golden tones that had nobility, prestige and power painted and woven into anything and everything. Everything that hung on the walls, sat on the floor, and draped across windows were the finest that Paris could offer. Christine, however, longed for her home back in the Opera. This room made her feel smothered, as did Raoul's presence. She was a lowly chorus girl, a dancer, and a forced diva. She was not used to this luxury and elegance that graced the very walls, was the very essence of this building.

Mme. Giry had come in often, as did Meg, to help her get over her boredom. She knew that Mme. Giry had many questions to ask her, but surprisingly, she did not find a single opportune moment to ask. Something would always happen that would need Mme. Giry's attention before she could. Christine was grateful for whatever powers that caused this to happen. She did not want to live through that nightmare again. Meg provided some sort of companionship for her. She was a lot more subdued than the bright, sprightly Meg that aspired to be the Prima Ballerina of the Opera Populaire. The events that had put Christine to bed rest had rattled Meg's life. Now, she had to get her life back in order. She was making good progress with that.

The days were, in some ways, tolerable to Christine. It was the nights that caused chills to go down her spine when she woke. They were restless nights. Nightmares filled her sleep, from the very first moment she closed her eyes to the moment when she shot up in bed, tears streaming down her face. Every night, she would relive the night of _Don Juan Triumphant_. His face would be right in front of her, contorted with pain, agony, and betrayal. His brokenness as he sat, looking up at her when she had returned the ring. It would always be when she looked into his expressive eyes when he said those words that she woke up.

_Christine, I love you…_

Tears streamed down from her eyes every single time she woke up. She would always be at odds with herself. She was supposed to be fearful of this… this… creature, for lack of a better word. But she could not feel that; not when it came down to this tearful admission of love. She could not hate him, no she could not. He meant so much to her – he taught her how to sing. He was there for her when she needed something, someone to trust, to turn to. He was her angel of music, whether he be spirit or human. He was still her protector, her guidance, her mentor. Her relationship with him was just that peculiar. She just couldn't figure out why it seemed so peculiar.

A series of sharp raps on the door interrupted her musings.

"Enter," she called out. She was definitely curious. Nobody sought her out this early in the morning. Dawn had broken, yes, but this was much earlier than her usual rising time.

The door opened to reveal Mme. Giry's stricken face. The ever-present curiousness inside Christine brought her to ask.

"Mme.? What is it? You look so pale…"

Mme. Giry was hesitant to answer. She did not know what the news she held behind her back would do to Christine. She didn't want to expose this to her when she had not recovered, but she knew that Christine would blame her for the rest of their lives if she did not. She stepped into the room, her hands still behind her back.

Christine was wondering why Mme. Giry seemed so tense, so held back. Usually, the madame would be very straightforward, but not today. For some reason, her stomach started to twist into knots. She had a feeling that she would not like the news, whatever it was that Mme. Giry brought.

Mme. Giry handed Christine one lone sheet of paper. It was page out of the newspaper, _l'Epoque_, carefully folded to reveal one small article.

_**Elusive Phantom of the Opera House found Dead.**_


End file.
